Life is me.

Prologue

You'd think you'd get used to it. Eventually. The isolation. The silence. The ruins. You'd hope that eventually the dark, decrepit landscape would become a light, eye-catching scene. That eventually the deafening silence would become melodic and pleasing to the ear. That the damage would suddenly heal and the once great buildings that lie in ruin would transform back into their former glory.

You can think.

You can hope.

You can close your eyes and count to ten as if the childish game would solve all of your problems, rewind time, fix the world.

But it can't.

It couldn't the day after.

It couldn't today.

It won't tomorrow. 

But it's nice. Nice to think about, to hope. To have something to hold on to regardless of how far fetched that hope or how weak the grasp on it may be because now, in this world, once you let go of that hope you let go of that single spark keeping you alive and in a world so sparsely populated, life is what you need and life... life is me.